Week 40: June 15-19

Day 181: 090619
I arrived at school a couple hours early this morning in order to finish grading the kids’ finals. As I was waiting for the elevator, I ran into Principal N. She pulled me aside and told me I was safe for next year—just as AP A told me a couple mornings ago. She touched my face and told me not to interview anymore. A tad Corleone, but comforting, too. You know, comforting the way the abusive husband is after he beats the shit out of you.

To further increase my feelings of sappy, stupid sentimentality, the last two questions on the final this year were “What was the best part of English this year? Why?” and “What was the worst part of English this year? Why?” I ask these questions to give the kids some gimme points and to give them a chance to voice off, but also to make myself feel like I have accomplished something in addition to tearing apart my own will to live. It’s much easier to like the kids when they say nice things about you and you don’t have to see them again. A selection of their remarks (edited only slightly, for grammar’s sake):

LMS: My fave part of English is you, Ms. G. You’re funny, nice and I know some of these kids are a pain in a butt, but they can’t help themselves.

RQ: P.S. I’m sorry about ever bad thing I did to you.

DG: My favorite part of my English year was the poetry slam. We had to go up and read in front of a lot of people. I was nervous at first, but I got use to it.

AR: When we play Jeopardy and look at Ms. G dance.

GO: My favorite part of English this year was to get in it all Done with. I hold some days. Ms. G you are the best and you’re so kool. I will miss you.

JK: My favorite part was the vocabulary. Why? because it was mad easy.

KCh: The best part of English was when I turned into an English fan. I hated English so much, but Ms. G turned me around. That was the best part of the class.

AB: My favorite part of English this year was that I got the help that I need for English. I came into special ed at the middle of the year and found the work to be just right for me. Not too bad and not too easy. I really liked the poetry slam too most from the year.

AM: My favorite part was when I passed my class. If it wasn’t for Ms. G, I wouldn’t pass. I would be going to summer schooling. But i went up to her and talk to her and she give me some stuff to do and pass. Just want to say thanks for the help, Ms. G.

DD: Flight vs invisibility because that was a very good kind of battle to come up with.

CG: My favorite part of English was when we would play those games and go against teams. Also when we would watch movies and answer questions. My other favorite part is when you would tell us something nobody knows.

I’ve received no word from the schools I interviewed at this week. My best guess is I’ll be returning here next year. So I packed my room up, filling my teacher closet and some lockers in the back of the room instead of filling up boxes and hauling them out.

Day 180: 090618
It was Ms. L’s last day here. Tomorrow she flies to Greece for the summer, and when she returns to New York City she will return to a middle school opening up in Harlem. Much like saying goodbye to the kids, it was anticlimactic. Also sad. I can’t even predict what it will be like next year without seeing her every day, as she has been such an integral part of my daily existence for the past two years. Don’t tell Ms. L, but I cried a little in the elevator after I left her in the room where she was proctoring.

Day 179: 090617
On my way into school this morning I saw DJe, a student from last year whom I adore. DJe spent his first semester with me in my fifth period. I maybe once threw a book directly at him because he was sleeping and ignoring me in front of the others and he maybe still teases me about it, each time to my deep embarrassment and fear that I may end up in teacher jail because of this momentary indiscretion. Come second semester, he was in my eighth period and the only one who showed up. Most days DJe and I would blow through the lesson with about ten minutes to spare, then we would sit around shooting the shit, waiting for the bell to ring so we could go home. DJe’s backstory is just as devastating as JC’s or GA’s, but he is proof that fucked up backstory doesn’t mean you grow up fucked up. DJe is growing up sweet, responsible and kind of goofy. We said goodbye on the sidewalk in the rainy morning.

Then AP A called me into her office to say I’ve been unexcessed. Huh.

I proctored the first session of the English Language Arts Regents examination this morning. Session 1 includes the listening passage, and my wards were ELL (English Language Learner) students, which means I had to read the passage out loud three times instead of just two. I’d like to say that halfway through the first time I was a little bored with Therapy Dogs (I read it so many times I memorized the website address). Also, the room was goddamn freezing cold. I had kids sitting in front of me physically shivering. Nothing can be done about this, however, so I advised them all to wear pants and sweatshirts tomorrow. I will not be wearing a skirt again as I, too, was shivering in the chill.

During my afternoon as “relief” for proctoring teachers, I was assigned to the room where half of my kiddies were taking the Math RCT. FR was happy to see me and wanted to know if I’d be back next year. I guess if you’re that toxic of a person you have to gloss over the bad feelings caused when you piss people off or else you would have no one to talk to. MB and QF were thrilled to see me: “It’s so good to see you again.” Then they each said goodbye to me another two or three times, all awkward like. Meanwhile, in my room, Ms. L babysat Ms. Pe’s son, who really likes books.

I had an amazing interview at an academically rigorous middle school in the south Bronx for a general education 8th grade ELA position. I talked to the hiring committee for an hour, which I suspect has to be a good thing. I would love to leave here.

Day 178: 090616
And so Regents week begins in ernest. I proctored a test this morning to non-special-ed students. It’s weird. The test only lasts three hours, the kids weren’t scheduled to take more than one test at the same time, they didn’t get the questions read over and over again. All I had to do was take attendance, read the directions and write the time on the board every fifteen minutes. I got some good reading done.

I had my first interview for a new job today—at a school that teaches Latin to its seventh and eighth graders, no less. Gotta love New York City because principals can be thirty-something barrel-chested men with Lenny Kravitz dreds halfway down their backs who believe Latin is the avenue to better students. I think the interview was going pretty well until it was made clear to me that the job required me to teach all four core subjects and I—honestly—revealed that I know shit all about math and science. The principal proposed an arrangement whereby I would teach ELA and history to sixth and seventh grade and the current seventh grade teacher would teach math and science to both grades. A promising suggestion, seeing as how the above-mentioned Principal Kravitz would alter his teaching program to get me onto staff.

Day 177: 090615
My official last day of teaching at this school has passed. Nothing says anticlimactic like watching kids finish essays and answer multiple-choice questions knowing full well that you’ll see a lot of them again during Regents Week. I passed out the certificates and candy bars for my students of the year, which was satisfying. Last year I didn’t do certificates and I’m sad to think of all those kiddos who were robbed of something pretty to show their parents. Heaven knows the candy bars don’t last long enough for any kind of show and tell. LJS, in a turn of events that surprises no one but himself, was not a student of the year. LJS comes in to class somewhere between on time and two minutes late, never takes notes, needs to be reminded to focus on anything and chitchats with the lovely SA (a rare girl in these classrooms) on a regular basis—and failed every marking period so far—and he’s suprised he’s not student of the year. God bless his relentless optimism and tenuous grasp on reality.

I had a couple awkward goodbyes today, from kids who know I’m not coming back and don’t know how to conduct a social interaction. Both QF and MB said goodbye to me about three times in a minute, clearly hoping for something more than my also saying “goodbye. I’m not a hugger, though, so I hope they were satisfied with winning student of the year—for most diligent and best class participation, respectively.

I had students in my room solid from third period through on until 3:45, desperately working to finish both parts of their final. I actually called Ms. L at the end of the day to remind ES and BU to come back to my room to finish their tests. I could hear BU moan loudly in the background when she passed on my message. But they needed to do well to pass, so I stand by my one last effort at making their lives uncomfortable. When they finished, I had another couple awkward goodbyes to tend to. Then it was me and DD, alone in the classroom again, as he finished up his final. Somehow appropriate that I walked out the door with DD on my last day.

Week 39: June 8-12

090612: Day 176
Tests last year were awesome: the kids shut up and took them. This year, tests mean I have to work four times as hard to keep the lid on. There are two ways of looking at this. One: I’m not meeting the kids where they are, which is only being able to focus for five, maybe ten, minutes. Two: This is a baptism by fire, as they have to learn to take period-long tests now that they are in high school. High school. I take the latter view: I’m helping them man up for the rest of their school lives.

Today they wrote four-paragraph essays in response to one of three questions:

A. Is there too much violence on TV and in the movies? Why or why not? Give 2 reasons that support your answer.
B. Do the police and metal detectors make our school better or worse? Why? Give 2 reasons that support your answer.
C. Should people save sex for marriage? Why or why not? Give 2 reasons that support your answer.

After today, the multiple-choice portion on Monday will seem like a reward.

090611: Day 175
FR is in the SAVE room until the end of the year! And JC is suspended! Bitch, yeah. This means the other students in fourth period will actually be able to focus on their finals instead of the zoo that is the classroom.

Further information on the Dean-B-is-spreading-rumors front: I guess he’s been “spreading rumors” about how Ms. L’s new principal (who worked at our school just last year) and Principal N have bad blood. Is it still a rumor if it’s based in fact? Not that I actually know the facts, being the rumor-mongering bitch I am, but I’m assured of its probability based on what I’ve seen this year.

090610: Day 174
I’m pretty certain that FR said he would kill me if I kicked him out of the room again today. I don’t really think he will kill me—or anyone, ever—but I wrote it down because I’m out to get him. I am only human; kid makes my life miserable. So, he came up to my desk and read what I wrote. Then, standing but a foot away from me, said to my face, “Are you fucking stupid? You fucking stupid?” So I kicked him out. Dean B came for him and I was once left amazed at how Dean B has become one of the only people in the building I trust implicitly.

The drama surrounding Ms. L’s excessing and un-excessing continued today. Ms. L said she told AP A she was nervous about meeting with Principal N because she knew the principal yelled at Ms. RM last year when she resigned to go teach in Texas. So this information made it all around the building and ended with AP D ripping Dean B a new one for “spreading rumors,” Dean B being invited to an audience with the Principal herself and perhaps his receiving a letter in his file for “spreading rumors.” Of course, Ms. L and I heard from Ms. RM’s mouth how the principal yelled at her, so we’re a little uncertain about how Dean B was spreading rumors. But truth is not guiding force at our school.

090609: Day 173
Ms. L’s excessing was rescinded today. Ironically, Ms. L was planning on meeting with the principal today to say she had taken another position. But forget that Mr. B was hired before her. AP A told her not to touch the politics of the thing, presumably because they are a nasty piece of business. Ms. EV and AP A then ominously told Ms. L not to sign anything. This advice has had the effect of making Ms. L freak the fuck out. Neither of us can quite figure out what could happen to her—she has a new position—but this is also the school that broke the contract to un-excess her and wrote a letter accusing Ms. Po of making a false accusation when she did no such thing (see Day 161). Who knows what they could do?

In unrelated news, I had the most awesome Do Now today: the kids had to listen to two minutes of Radiolab that discussed a moral dilemma and apply that discussion to the morality of “Monsters, Inc.” The dilemma revolves around the idea of doing what is best for the individual or what is best for the group—and what to do when the two conflict. For the record, the Radiolab is hilarious and involves some pretty silly sound effects of a train killing lots of people. The kids loved it! Only fourth period wouldn’t shut up long enough for me to play the clip. It was so out of control—again—that I had both JC and FR removed. I am so over the bullshit. If only I could actually tell freshmen to drop out. It would certainly be better for the group if JC and FR never returned to the classroom. Of course, it would be pretty disastrous for them as individuals. But it’s hard not to think their lives are already disasters.

090608: Day 172
I’m showing “Monsters, Inc” today, tomorrow and Wednesday. We all need a break. It’s surprising how much less complicated “Monsters, Inc” is as compared to “The Incredibles.” That said, QF was extraordinarily excited to see the show; apparently it’s one of his favorites.

Seeing as how it’s the end of the year, I figure I should start ending some of the stories I started. LS, whom you may remember from that time she ran away but didn’t really (see Day 122), is no longer on roster. A couple weekends ago she was arrested in Brooklyn and since that time she has been back in a psychiatric institution.

I am sad to lose her. She was creative and literate. Her favorite subject was English. She completed all her homeworks with a high level of effort and proficiency and absolutely destroyed tests. Her short story, involving two girls fighting over a shoe stuck to the carpet with gum, was inspired and violent.

Sometimes kids are fucked up beyond your reckoning before you even meet them.

Week 38: June 1-5

090605: Day 171
I love computer lab days: I don’t need much of a lesson plan. And according to the kids, today was “cut day,” “national cut day” or, my favorite, “international cut day.” As a result, the longer the day went, the fewer the kids.

NR told me how sad and upsetting it was the Ms. L and I got excessed. She’s angry that it has to be the two teachers she likes the best that get let go first. I thanked her for telling me that. Despite her at-times toxic rudeness, I think she has a sweet heart. Part of me will miss her a lot.

Coming to school has become nigh-on impossible. I hated it here before, now it’s abhorrence. I have a couple leads on open positions from my teaching fellow colleagues. I would rather be working on my resume than watching kids type, but at least it’s not so challenging today.

090604: Day 170
Few things as hideous as the staff development day. I got to learn about how to write a good aim and facilitate effective group work. And then we got to do a scavenger hunt to build school spirit! I wasn’t really into building any sort of team spirit, seeing as how I’d been kicked off the team but two days prior. According to AP A, we only have 537 incoming freshman for the 2009-2010 school year. I think this school year we had around 1000. And five years ago, there were 200 incoming freshman in the special education department alone. I’m pretty certain the administration is trying to keep a school going that the city is trying to close. It looks like the city is winning.

I spent my lunch with Ms. B, Ms. L, Mr. B and Ms. M. We talked about the blog and how excited they—Mr. B and Ms. M in particular—get when they’re on it. So I’m putting them on it again. Hello!

During the afternoon meeting, the teachers of the year were awarded. Ms. L won for special education. I wrote many lovely things about her and expected that she would win. It was enough to make a person cry, seeing as how she’s been excessed, too. But I also feel like I’ve never worked so hard for so long with nothing to show for it. Last year, I was on the list for every official observation—as a first-year teacher—and got an apple-shaped tablet as a thank-you. This year I have absolutely busted ass and pretty much only had one nice meeting with the principal about it. It’s hard to not resent Ms. L at least a little (sorry if you’re reading this—it isn’t personal) as huge amounts of what we’ve accomplished this year have been because we worked together.

It all goes back to the horrible feeling I’ve had over and over this year that I might as well not be here. I stand in front of classrooms—seventh period, fifth period, fourth period last semester—and it’s like I’m not even in the room. As a house we ask for help from the principal and she cancels three meetings with us. I try my best to do something about the behavior problems in the classroom, and Ms. Po yells at me about it. I am excessed in a meeting where I am an afterthought, not even worth the time to hang up the phone or show up on time. I am the cellophane man.

090603: Day 169
Oh what a good mood I am in. I am just giddy to find a new teaching job. I don’t feel guilty about neglecting to tell potential employers that I may be leaving in a year because I have no other choice but to look for a new job. And maybe this time I can find a school that won’t kill me with purposeful inaction and scare tactics!

Periods one, three, four and five are in the computer lab today and Friday (Thursday is a staff development day), and they are so far doing awesome. No one fucked around too much, and they all actually worked on typing their narratives. I think it’s the rainy weather: keeps them chill and calm.

Then seventh period came in. Late as usual. MN accused me of being unfair because everyone else got to go to the computer lab and they didn’t. I explained that I had to cancel the Writing Workshop unit for seventh period because no one listened to me. NO ONE completed the assignments or listened to the lessons or wrote in class. And I pointed out that I begged and pleaded with them numerous times a couple weeks ago to try in class, all to no avail. It was definition of fair that they didn’t get to go to the computer lab. One day, MN will understand cause and effect. I won’t be around to see it, but I’m not so sad about that.

090602: Day 168
When I arrived at school this morning and began to grade the work in my homework basket, I noticed that my gradebooks were entirely gone. It was as if they had never been on my USB drive. All that grading I did yesterday is gone. My most recent backup was Thursday, so that’s not too bad. But it’s not too great, either.

And then I lost my teaching position. During fourth period, I received a hand-delivered memo from AP B asking me to meet her in her office at 12:25. As I was walking to her office, she was walking away. Of course. So, I sit in AP B’s office for about fifteen minutes, with Ms. LATR and Ms. L. We pretty much figured out we were all getting excessed, as we are all the junior members of our department. And Ms. LATR was already excessed once, so she knew the deal. Finally, AP B came back and our “meeting” began. When I say began, I mean I sat in her office looking at the letter on the desk with my name on it while she talked on the phone for about three more minutes. Three minutes is a very long time to wait to be excessed, particularly when you can see the letter with your name on it. I made the meeting as short as possible, beginning it myself by saying we pretty much figured the situation out while we had tons of time to sit there. (The manners of it all!) She told me it was the worst budget she’s ever seen in her career.

Before I go further, let me explain what it means to be excessed. The UFT is a mighty, mighty union. Though I have lost my position, I have not lost my job. Basically, my school doesn’t have enough students for the number of teachers it has, so I had to go—along with Ms. L, Mr. B and Ms. Bo from my department alone. So I have to find a new position in another school. Even if I do not find another position by September, I will report to my current school and be a full-time substitute, or an ATR, which I think means Absent Teacher Reserve. Or Available Teacher in Reserve. But I will still have a salary. It’s crazy.

This is both the final kick in the pants of one of the worst years of my life and the biggest blessing I’ve been given since the year began. It wasn’t a surprise, either. Ms. L and I have watched the administration’s furious struggle to keep attendance up this year with the understanding that they’re trying to hold onto their faculty as much as the kids themselves. But a failing school is a failing school.

Of course I had to go teach seventh period after being told I was no longer needed. And they were the assholes they always are. Except RQ. Small victory.

090601: Day 167
Ms. L threw me a bachelorette party on Saturday. I was still recovering this morning. AP A suggested that perhaps I am getting old if it takes me days to recover. I retorted that it had been a twelve hour party, and she understood where I was coming from.

Seeing as how I always bring my grading home over the weekend and never do it and I had house guests on the futon, I finished exactly no grading. This morning I put Jeff to work on the multiple-choice vocabulary quizzes (which he did even though he didn’t want to) and starting busting through the homeworks and writing assignments myself. Once I got my photocopying done at school, I sat in my classroom and continued grading, grading, grading! I managed to finish the grades in time to print out lists of missing assignments for the kiddies and write their current grades on top. Given that I show them their grades at least once every week or two (depends on the period and how often they ask me), it was shocking how many kids were surprised to see they are failing. Don’t they see the homework chart? How many stickers they don’t have? How many quizzes they fail?

SP was made of attitude when he saw his 30%. Poor kid. We sent a guidance email awhile back saying we thought he should be reevaluated because he cannot keep up with the classwork. Even when he is trying and paying full attention, he is struggling. So guidance scheduled a meeting during a period when none of us could attend and told the mom she should try to transfer him to a smaller school. That was frustrating. SP did not get into a smaller school and the reevaluation process was never started. So he will spend at least another year falling more and more behind. If he doesn’t drop out, it will be a miracle. Or because of football. But he can’t play football with failing grades. Yet another slow-burn tragedy in the making.

Ms. L and I met with RQ’s mom this afternoon to discuss his shit attitude and declining work ethic. I now realize she is actually his aunt, as she made reference to RQ’s mess-up father, her brother. Fortunately I already learned the lesson that just because they have the same last name does not mean they have a parent/offspring relationship. We shamed RQ pretty good, so hopefully he’ll shape up.

—-
Update: New film picture on Day 166.

Week 34: May 4-8

090508: Day 152
First thing this morning I opened my email and found a missive from Ms. L with the subject line “bullying and abortion.” An attention-getter, to say the least. Long story short, CG and BJ—what a lovely couple—have been manipulating NR and AB into believing each wants to fight the other in order to engineer a girl fight. If you recall, BJ hit NR over the head with a recycling bin just a few weeks ago (see Day 137) and this week marked his return from the off-site suspension school. Anyway, all the students were out of classes for most of the day so there could be a “mediation” of their problems. Ms. L happened upon AB and NR at some point during the day and pulled them both into her room to talk the problem out.

Ms. L had been told their dispute had been mediated before. I’m not sure how you define mediation, but I’m pretty certain it should involve sitting both people down together. However, the girls said it was the first time they had sat down with each other to discuss the problems they had—problems that have been going on for a couple months. Our school’s “mediation” is a faculty member sitting each student down separately and threatening suspension. Huh. Anyway, as the story emerged from this genuine mediation, Ms. L helped the girls to see they were being played by CG and BJ. They were angry and vowed to stick up for each other from then on. It will be interesting to see how that plays out on Monday, when BJ and CG find their cruel entertainment spoiled and NR and AB now firm allies.

Ms. Po was not here today. I feel icky about it. As bad as I am, she is worse. I’m not sure if I hope she comes back or if I hope she doesn’t. The situation is certainly coming to a head. Who knows what happened to the meeting she was supposed to have with AP P this morning.

090507: Day 151
As I sat in my room this afternoon, talking to my friend Sally and making wedding plans, I watched the sky turn darker and to that sick shade of green that tells you a serious downpour is on its way. I swear it waited for 2:55 to burst forth. By the time I made it to my car, the sky was booming and my skirt was soaked through. I wore boots for just this occasion—didn’t want to ruin my beautiful new blue pumps (see above). Fuck me, though, my bag got so wet that the shoes got damaged inside it. Then, because I’m so exhausted I can’t take care of myself, it didn’t occur to me to take my shoes out of my wet bag until hours after I got home. I need to go to a leather repair shop. I’m thinking Eddie’s in Grand Central, but who knows when I’ll have time.

The Poetry Slam victory continued this morning. DG came into my room before first period (I don’t have him till fifth, but he likes me) talking about how much fun he had yesterday. He said he was so nervous, but once he started reading it was just so much fun. Be still my heart.

Also, today LS threatened to kill herself. And no one could find her para, Ms. WP, when it happened. It was Ms. WP’s lunch break, though, so I’m unclear as to how she can be in trouble. But she is. She sat in AP P’s office for twenty minutes waiting to be called into a meeting about the situation while a small army of people searched the school for her. No one knew who she was, so they didn’t recognize her when she was sitting right in front of them. She’s pretty pissed, seeing as how she’s worked at the school for eight or nine years.

090506: Day 150
The Poetry Slam was an amazing success this year. Last year, it pretty well sucked. This year every student in attendance participated save three or four (I suspect GL’s crippling depression and shyness held him back and JG’s lack of participation is impossible to explain). In each period, students performed their poems one-by-one. At the end of each performance, everyone in the audience scored the performance between a 0 and a 10 by writing the number on an index card and holding the card up in the air. I (kind of randomly) picked three scores to write on the board and tallied up the totals as we went along. I’m incredibly proud, mostly of me but also of the students. Keys to success: students were on teams and competing for a team prize; students were also competing for an individual prize; guest judges made it “real”; and each student got to judge all the performances. Once the event got rolling, so many kids were participating—both reading and scoring—that it became more embarrassing for a student to refuse to participate than to be mildly embarrassed by reading in front of the class.

GA read a poem of his own composition and won in fourth period with the only perfect score of the day. He’s still an asshole, but it was nice to see him succeed. JK wowed the entirety of first period with his rendition of “Romantic” by Dana Wier. Pretty amazing for a kid who gets made fun of stuttering through whole paragraphs. BR almost caused AP A to faint with his recitation of “may i feel said he,” a poem I personally picked out for him when I noticed he was looking for “sexy” poems.

The event was such a hit that by fifth period, we had four guest judges and a bunch of students from first period who enjoyed the slam so much they came back to see more.

I need to do more presentations next year.

090505: Day 149
I ran into Ms. Po this morning. She had a letter in her mailbox from AP P asking her to attend a meeting Friday morning. AP P happened to be standing there when Ms. Po picked up said letter, so naturally she asked what it was all about. AP P claims she just has a question to ask, but I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as that. Neither does Ms. Po. She’s a little bit upset, seeing as AP P is supposed to be meeting with students and their parents on behalf of Ms. Po, due to the constant sexual harassment she endures (See Day 142). Of course, when the kids harass her, Ms. Po rips them back. So who knows what that meeting is going to be about. But generally, if it is scheduled, it is more than just “a question.” Ms. Po told me that she doesn’t think she “can come back to this place” if she’s in trouble. I think she’s known for awhile that she shouldn’t keep coming back. It’ll be interesting (and possibly tragic) to see how this plays out.

Today is the last day of class preparation before the poetry slam. I was reviewing the expectations and the prizes for the winners. In fourth period, fucking FR called me cheap because the top individual prize was only two candy bars. I canceled all prizes briefly because really. FR is the kind of kid who acts like an asshole daily, lets other students take the blame and then claims he never lies, that he always admits it when he is out of line. He is the lowest form of scum in the classroom. And he does no work. Numerous kids in the classroom called on FR to apologize for calling me cheap and ruining it for the rest of them. He flat out said he wouldn’t apologize because I was being cheap. Fucking hate that kid. It’s this kind of crap that makes it hard to come in every day: a student who lets others take the blame for his shit, who does no work, who expects to be treated like royalty by his teachers.

090504: Day 148
Remember when my seventh period got split in half? (See Day 97 and the next few days that followed.) Well, Ms. Wi finally took her maternity leave—that woman held out until the last week of her pregnancy to take her leave—which left all her classes without a teacher. So, the students in Ms. W(itch)’s seventh period got returned to me and Ms. W(itch) took over Ms. Wi’s seventh period. So far, they have been pretty good to me. Obnoxious as all get out, but happy to be back with me. Or just happy to be back in a class bigger than five students. MN in particular seems happy. He came in on time, picked up a new Aims and Answers sheet without being asked and immediately began to copy the aim. He also claimed me right quick as his partner in the Poetry Slam on Wednesday. I missed him, too.

Week 33: April 27-May 1

090501: Day 147
On account of the fact that kids have basically given up, I’m pushing them toward independent work. Today they worked on analyzing the poems they chose in the computer lab. Miraculously, the day was pretty chill. Ms. L reported that she looked in my window at some point during the day to see me bending over and helping one student while the rest of them worked quietly. She was impressed and perhaps jealous. I’m impressed myself and take very little credit for the miracle this independent work represents. Attendance was low and it was a little cloudy: recipe for relaxation.

It’s been nice the past couple days to interact with poetry again. Last year I gave the kids a choice of four poems to perform dramatically. This year they had the entire internets from which to choose a poem. I’m happy to report that I already know a fair number of the poems they chose—My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose—or I know the poets, as with Russell Edson, Yusef Komunyakaa and Stephen Crane. SP accused me of telling tales when I told him that I got to read along side Yusef Komunyakaa and Andrew Hudgins used to be a professor of mine. I remembered that contemporary poetry is not a big world. I’m also remembering that I know a lot about poetry. Even in cases where the kids picked some weird-ass poems, like EB’s A Farewell to Tobacco and JK’s Romantic, I can pretty quickly guide them to accurate and personal interpretations.

The judges are all lined up for the Poetry Slams this coming Wednesday, and I am super excited. I hope the kids do well performing their poems, both for my sake and theirs.

090430: Day 146
AP A told me today that as bad as it is in high school, the situation is worse in the middle schools. The big state tests in middle school pretty much are all over by the end of next week, with the result that the students are pretty well done with the school by the end of next week, too. It occurs to me that this is a pretty good explanation for why all of our freshman have stopped working. Even first period comes in daily and bitches about having to do anything. They must think they’re still in middle school. Sadly for me and them, this is high school. We have a little over six weeks of classes left, and every day of it counts.

Teaching has become nigh-on pointless, with maybe one out of ten kids looking at me as I talk. Hardly anyone copies the aim or the answer to the aim. Lateness has reached new heights, with entire periods coming late—fifth period, I’m talking about you. Tomorrow is the last day of the fifth marking period, and I look forward the paucity of papers I will receive, as it will make it so much easier on my conscience to fail entire periods’ worth of students.

090429: Day 145
I’m so glad we’re done in the computer lab. On the whole, the kids did pretty well. Most of them spent most of their time looking at poems and mostly they found a poem they are into enough to perform in front of the class. But the set-up of the room is a nightmare—I had to stand on chairs and literally shout in order to communicate any directions—and the computers themselves have got to be fifteen years old. That is to say that the computers are about as old as my students are. Not to mention the stifling heat and humidity that have plagued the building all week, the effects of which are only magnified by thirty-odd computers desperately working to keep themselves cool.

BR was looking for a sexy poem to perform, and I happened to notice he was also checking out car poems. Naturaly, I directed him towards the e. e. cummings’ poem that uses a graphic description of driving a car to suggest sexual intercourse. BR is into it, though it will be interesting to see how he manages to perform it.

Fourth period made many pleas to return to the computer lab. Ha! It was only after EV said, “Don’t you get it? It’s already done” that they stopped bugging me about going back. God bless EV for actually getting it.

090428: Day 144
Oh how I hate the computer lab we have to work in today and tomorrow. The rows of computers make it impossible for the students to see me and because the routine is broken no one is trying to see me. Half the computers are broken and half of those that do work are either slow as honey on a winter day or freeze up five minutes into using them.

Fourth period distinguished itself by throwing paper balls all over the lab and then throwing computer manuals. DD most certainly threw a computer manual, a couple times. Someone else was involved, too, but I don’t know who. Dean C—whom I pretty much lost all respect for the day he brought his asinine fight with SC from the hallway into my class, which was already in progress—came, but ultimately nothing happened because functionally the whole period was involved in the hijinks. Needless to say, fourth period will not be returning to the computer lab tomorrow.

Perhaps the highlight of the day was when I noticed AR reading “How can I keep my maidenhead” by Robert Burns. I variously explained the meanings of “maidenhead” and “guinea” and also what exactly happens in the last stanza. I recommend you check it out. The effect of the ballad is only made better by the fact that is seems to be to the tune of “Do you know the muffin man?”

090427: Day 143
Jeff and I were discussing the joys of David Lynch’s filmography when it occurred to me that my life is a Lynch film: filled with random violence, perversion, loud bursts of disconcerting noise, and surreal interactions that defy explanation.

Week 32: April 20-24

090424: Day 142
Ms. L took a dozen kids on a school trip to Washington, D. C. I would kill myself if I did that. Anyway, despite the fact that only twelve kids were going, I pretty well planned on attendance being shite. The kids get it into their heads that everyone is going to be gone so there’s no reason for any of them to come either. So we took a day to write hate poems based on this one. Easy, peasy.

I overheard GA telling another one of his classmates that he was “holding it in” while he was working on his hate poem. Truth be told, he was doing an OK job of holding it in, too. By “it” I mean the excessive swearing and sexual vulgarities. He had good reason to make an effort. One of the many phone calls I made yesterday was to GA’s sister—that poor woman. Turns out Ms. Po had already talked to her before I phoned because GA threatened to bring Ms. Po’s mom into class and make her suck his dick in the back of the room. Sister is planning on taking out a PINS petition on him. Long process short: if a judge finds GA to be “in need of supervision,” he can put him in a foster group home or assign him a probation officer. Guess GA does have some fear in him.

Regarding Ms. Po’s shot across the administration’s bow: we have a sexual harassment action plan. AP P, AP L and AP A are going to bring the offending students’ parents into the school to have a sit-down with their kid and the world’s scariest police officer regarding the harassment. I’m thrilled with the idea of bringing the parents in. Anytime you make parents come into the school they know it has to be serious.

090423: Day 141
Boy howdy did I make some phone calls today. I called home for DD, because he’s shouting out “pussy” and “tossed salad” (not the kind with greens and dressing) all the time and blaming it on his “Tourette’s.” For the record, DD has no such ailment. I called home for FR because he sucks at least as hard as DD does. I called home for KCh because he was a little bitch in class about answering a question I already knew he had answered correctly on his worksheet. I also called home for EB, who often does nothing in class, but today was awesome! I told his sister who passed it along to his mom (who only speaks Spanish) that EB did very well on the quiz we had, volunteered some great answers and even smiled a little. That phone call was fun. Makes me smile just remembering it.

In related news, Ms. Po sent a mighty email to the Principal, AP L, AP A and the deans’ office about the persistent sexual harassment that goes on in our classrooms. She called out the lot of them: SC, GA, FR, LF, and DD. Among the best stories she told on them was DD standing in her doorway with his pants around his ankles saying goodbye to her over and over until she looked up to see he had his pants down. It looks like we may see some actual administrative action on these issues.

Oh and I cried again: during second period.

090422: Day 140
Stopped teaching again in fifth period. I can’t handle the homophobia anymore. If I have to hear “faggot” fifty times a class period for the rest of this year I do not know how I will finish. It’s hard to explain the toll the hate language is taking on my spirit. During the last ten minutes of fifth period, after I’d totally given up on the motherfuckers, TE was standing next to me. Some background: TE has a tendency to be a little gassy. Anyway, I was sitting there in my misery when TE lets out a deep, gurgly belch. He then says, “Ewwww, Ms. G! Gross!” TE is 15 years old.

I had to throw GA out in fourth period. He was doing marginally better, but his entire demeanor is class-stopping. He was so angry about removed that he threw his paper to the floor and spat on it. Then he spat on the late log. I didn’t tell fifth period about the spit. Ha ha, assholes!

And I cried again. This time during my lunch.

090421: Day 139
I had a marker thrown quite forcefully at me in fifth period today. From my dean’s report:

At one point, I threw my overhead marker down in disgust. It was at lest two feet away from any student. Later in that period, I was writing notes on the overhead with said marker and saw something fly dangerously close to my face and heard a loud popping noise (almost like a glass bottle breaking) as it slammed onto the floor beneath the Smart Board. It was a marker. After much discussion and some help from a dean, NR told me and the dean that it was WR who threw the marker. Another student, CM, also came very close to being hit and was upset.

As WR was being escorted from the room, he said to NR, “You gonna get shot.” NR isn’t scared, per se, but she was definitely upset by this comment. She said she was going to 144 to file her own report of this incident, and I hope she did.

I have attempted to call home a couple times over the past month about WaR’s attitude, language and academic progress, but we do not have a working phone number.

Dean T, whom I don’t know from Adam, came in to help with the situation. Not surprisingly, I wasn’t so into teaching after being (again) physically threatened in my own classroom. Ms. L was also in the hallway and told me that Dean T was talking smack about my classroom management skills behind my back and in front of SS. Fucking getting it from all sides here. The dean problem was one I could handle, though. I hunted Dean T down and asked him to kindly not speak about my teaching in front of my kids. He was quite apologetic and there was also some miscommunication involved.

After talking it out with Dean T, I went down to 144 to return WR’s hat to him. He was quite adamant that he did not throw the marker. But he wasn’t in trouble for the marker—no one really cares about anyone threatening me—so much as he was in trouble for threatening to shoot NR. We ended up having a really nice conversation. WR explained his anger management problems (he is so not alone with that problem) and how the only thing that helps is listening to his music. I suggested that if he felt like he was going to explode in the future I would be OK with his slipping his headphones on and listening to his music. He said the signal would be him raising his hand. He was starting to smile by the time I left. I think he had to talk to police after that, though, which was probably less fun. I myself returned to my classroom to teach another period. Didn’t even have a chance to cry until eighth period.

The nastiest part of the whole marker-incident was certainly JM. I’m pretty certain JM was the actual pitcher in the room today. He went so far as to suggest I was to blame for having a marker whipped at my face because I threw my overhead marker at the floor. Then he did that thing he does when he presumes to know what I’m thinking. “You scared, Ms. G? You scared?” And he says it with such glee he clearly enjoys seeing people scared. Which does scare me at least a little. If a kid ever takes a swing at a teacher this year, it’s gonna be JM.

090420: Day 138
The Poetry Slam unit began today. I love this unit, naturally. We read and analyze poems–love!—and at the end the kids have to deliver a dramatic interpretation of a poem of their choice. I started the unit off with my own dramatic interpretation of “This Be The Verse,” by Phillip Larkin, which drops the F-bomb. Nothing like a rhyming poem that blames the misery of the world on parents to hook kids into poetry.

Like any other day, things were fine until fourth period. Both GA and LF loudly announced to the class (or to the universe at large, it’s hard to tell), “I have to take a shit.” I spoke to both of them after class about it. I suggested to GA that a better strategy would have been simply to ask for use of the bathroom pass. GA replied, “Are you crazy? Who shits in school?” I shot back, “Are you crazy? Who talks about their pooping loudly in the middle of class?” And LF? Well, he’s another sack of crazy. The kind of crazy that suffers from echolalia. Or faked echolalia anyway.

Remember last week when I was skeptical that any students would ever be suspended again? BR is suspended! JC is suspended! JC’s suspension is particularly gratifying because it was me who he threatened to “slap the shit out of.”

—–
New film pictures on Day 126 and Day 137

Week 30: March 30-April 3

090403: Day 134
We finished When the Emperor Was Divine today. The end of the book is a spectular monologue in which the father confesses to being every horrible American stereotype of the “Jap”:

I’m the one you call Jap. I’m the one you call Nip. I’m the one you call Slits. I’m the one you call Slopes. I’m the one you call Yellowbelly. I’m the one you call Gook. I’m the one you don’t see at all—we all look alike. I’m the one you see everywhere—we’re taking over the neighborhood. I’m the one you look for under your bed every nithg before you go to sleep. Just checking, you say.

The passage is so angry and so over-the-top that pretty much every kid actually understood it. I love those days, the days when they all get it. AR loved it so much he demanded I give him a copy of the book because it’s his favorite now. I love it when that happens, too. I’m thinking I’ll buy him a copy.

090402: Day 133
I spent long stretches of fifth period not teaching. The class was relatively quiet while I wasn’t teaching, save a random conversation or two. But even though they weren’t talking, they certainly weren’t listening. After about 3 minutes or so a student would ask me to continue with the lesson. So I would ask the question I had just asked and then no one would answer. I’m not even sure they heard me ask the question, despite the requests to continue. I was not asking hard questions, for the record.

I cannot think for students. They seem to think that is my job, though. They sit there dumb as dirt and wait for me to write something on the board, preferably an answer to a question. Then they say, “I do your work” when they copy the letters from the board onto their pre-made note sheets. I am out of ways to explain that copying notes is not doing the work. They also need to answer questions, read books (and directions), listen to what I say even if they do not have to write it down, and listen to one another. Special ed my ass; this is laziness and it is disgusting.

On the upside, I finished my Culminating Assessment Project, or CAP, and drove it up to Mercy today.

090401: Day 132
Ms. Po is out today. I missed it yesterday, because I was out, but apparently her second period made her cry. That is not surprising; our kids are worse by the minute. I guess they were throwing markers all over the place, and she already felt sick, and she just couldn’t take it anymore.

I made it a point to lock up all my stuff before I left. But I came back today to find that a student stole markers from my desk. Someone reached into my desk and stole my good markers. Said person left all the crayolas and the crappy, school-supplied permanent markers and took my sharpies and overhead markers. I can’t get over it: a kid reached into my desk and stole my sharpies. The number of fucking sharpies I have had stolen from me this year is driving me a little crazy. I need them to keep the word wall nicely updated, and some fucking kid keeps taking them from me. I wish I knew who it was so I could say, to his face, FUCK YOU. Fuck you for being a petty little criminal. Fuck you for making me spend more of my money on your sorry ass, because this classroom is for you. Fuck you for making me waste my time by going to fucking Staples, again, to replace things that were stolen from me, again.

Also, I’m pretty sure whoever stole the sharpies is the same person who tagged “Cookie” all over my classroom in sharpie. It’s on the filing cabinet, Smart Board, heater, mouse pad, desk under the mouse pad and my chair. Also see where GA fucked up the bulletin board that took me a couple hours to put together. GA’s handwriting I recognize from the last time he defaced my mouse pad (and denied it).

If only they read the blog, they could see me say it: Fuck you, kid, for making our world trash.

090331: Day 131
I was positively giddy that I stayed home today, even if it was to work on my CAP. I also went to downtown Yonkers to get my license switched over to New York. Yeah, hadn’t taken care of that California license. It was probably illegal, but whatever. I’m square with the law now. I also hit up Staples for miscellaneous office supplies and even went to Target. Living large, baby.

090330: Day 130
I stayed after school today to help CP on his some homework. I kind of hate staying late, but I feel so much less guilty having one official after-school day. Also, I can get a lot of filing and grading done before I head on out to Mercy for another endless night of graduate work. As I was putting away a ton of stuff and writing directions on the board for Tuesday and stacking papers neatly on my desk, CP made a remark about me not coming to school the next day. I purposefully didn’t tell any kids that I was planning on being absent, because then they would make plans to trash my room instead of doing it on the spur of the moment. CP was a little sharper than I would have anticipated. Fortunately for me, he’s not a shithead. He probably won’t spread word around that I ain’t coming in tomorrow.

Week 29: March 23-27

090327: Day 129
Oh my, CA’s mom came in this afternoon for parent-teacher conferences. She is very supportive and sweet, but she also kept CA home for the first marking period. CA told me earlier in the year that he was almost left back in 8th grade because he missed over 80 days. Over 80 days! That is almost half the school year. While it’s true that CA has health problems, he doesn’t have that many health problems. I suppose when I call her supportive I also kind of meant she is an enabler.

CA’s primary problem in school is that he doesn’t do anything. Truly: hardly anything. He was unable to name to protagonist and antagonist for his short story. He could not answer the question “which superpower is better: flight or invisibility?” No matter how long a teacher sits with him, he will wait them out. He will give them a sheepish smile that says, “I dunno, maybe you better leave to go help someone else.” And eventually you have to, because he can’t even think of a name for a character! His mom understood all of this about him and basically said she had no idea what to do. Then they left, without talking to Ms. Po or Mr. P, who doubtless would have said the exact same things Ms. L and I did. But still.

I swear some of our parents have never heard of taking a kid’s computer or gaming system away until their grades improve.

090326: Day 128
Ms. L and I hit up some Applebees before parent-teacher night. Beer is good. Especially when you know you’re gonna have to talk to parent after parent after parent. That frilly pink drink, however? Disappointingly weak, according to Ms. L. Also hugely exciting: I got to eat buffalo wings, which I’ve been craving ever since I saw that episode of “Man v. Food” where Adam goes to Quaker Steak and Lube.

But I suppose the true story of the night is GW and her mother. While sitting at my conference table, GW and her mom had a rather long, low-level conversation of the “should I . . .” “I don’t know know . . .” “I should . . .” “maybe not. . .” nature—you know the kind. Only, it was in a loud room, in low Caribbean accents, with me sitting right there with them. Awkward. Oh, and then GW’s mom asked if I was a Christian. I like to say that I’m Buddhist in these situations, because it is equally as exotic as agnostic—which is the real truth of my religious leanings—but inspires less questioning and dismay.

Turns out GW’s mom needs to find a new job as a nanny because she hates the woman she works for up in Mt. Kisco, which is also quite a ways from the Bronx. She wants to move into a bigger apartment and keep GW in the same school because she’s doing well there. And, you know, the economy is in the crapper. To get a new job, she needs good references who are White. The woman whom she worked for in Bronxville is a little too slow to return phone calls, and the woman in Mt. Kisco sounds like a beotch. So, she would basically like to me to lie for her, to say that she has successfully and wonderfully cared for my children.

Ethics are a bitch, and I really wish I wasn’t the teacher they picked to approach on this matter.

090325: Day 127
We had our reconciliation today in our house meeting. And by reconciliation I refer to Ms. Po sulking on the floor and letting Mr. K talk for her. It was bizarre and offensive. For those of you following along at home, Mr. K is not part of the freshman house and thus has no direct bearing on the proceedings. (He did have some good suggestions, though.) It was almost as if Mr. K was there to guard Ms. Po as she played with her iPhone.

Ms. L was forced into interpreting Ms. Po’s feelings for her, to which Ms. Po could barely be bothered to respond with a “sure” or “yeah.” I wasn’t exactly expecting an apology. In fact, I was kind of expecting to get beat up on a little more for being holier-than-thou. The reality was far more anti-climactic and frustrating. Ms. Po had no reaction. I expected at least some sort of reaction. Any reaction at all to the way we both stepped in it yesterday. But no, just silent sulking on the floor.

As far as I’m concerned, it’s a giant whatever. The freshman house is dead, for all intents and purposes. And I have a fundamental problem being friends with people who don’t do anything to help themselves out of their own misery. Ms. Po and I were never quite friends. We were almost friends, but now we are mostly certainly not friends.

090324: Day 126
I wrote a guidance referral for GA, regarding his horrible language and behavior and the impact they were having on his academic progress. I included reports from Ms. Po and Ms. L to hammer home the point that his behavior and academic issues pervade his school life. I referenced his propensity to use the word “wetback” as both an insult and an expletive. I wrote of his obsession with the sexuality of JC’s mom (appears to be a theme, BR also spent quite a bit of time talking about the things he does with JC’s mom).

AP A responded to my email imploring Ms. G, the guidance counselor, to get the guardian involved because “the situation is getting out of hand.”

Our response from guidance?

Attention All

GA’s guardian was in yesterday and met with AP L and myself.

I will forward this e-mail to Ms. H his mandated counselor as well as contact the guardian regarding this e-mail.

That’s right, guidance, don’t notify teachers when parents come in or anything. That would be a stupid waste of time.

Also of note today was Ms. Po asking me to eat a little bit of her shit during our house meeting. We were discussing the behavior rubric and, to put it succinctly, its failure. Me being the queen of tact, I mentioned the fact that Ms. L and I have been carrying a disproportionate amount of work for the house, particularly since the new semester began (and we lost Ms. Pe). Of course, I only get the guts—or lose my patience enough—to make reference to my true feelings three minutes before the end of sixth period. Ms. Po reared up at me—in my imagination she is like a horse with steam blasting from her nostrils—and snapped at me, “This isn’t working.” She then stormed out the room as I shouted apologies after her.

Now I will be the first person to admit to my own shit. But I will be damned if I am going to pretend someone else’s shit is my own. I was hardly tactful or polite in the meeting, but I sure didn’t deserve another teacher—a colleague with whom I should be working closely—invading my personal space to snap in my face and then storm out of the room.

On my way out of school, I ran into Mr. P and Ms. Pe (why does everyone’s last name begin with P?). I again made with the apologies (oh, I also sent a nice, apologetic email after the incident), this time to Mr. P. Mr. P assured he was not offended and suggested to me that my problem is that I am too “wide-eyed.” This is not the first time this year someone has either implied or outright said that I am naive and idealistic. Fuck that criticism. I am hardly naive. I may look like a little blonde girl who just fell off the turnip truck. But truly, I am the product of a “broken home” who suffered through a pretty good period of depression, a trollop who has been dumped and heartbroken a seriously large number of times, an activist (Jeff’s word for me, reluctantly now my own) who spent two years running a creative writing program in the Westchester County Department of Corrections. Fuck you if you think I’m “wide-eyed” after that.

090323: Day 125
I grow tired of teacher absences. Student absences, though they are certainly unacceptable, are much more palatable. When teachers are absent, the students who are still in attendance go kind of crazy. That said, today was the first day of researching Japanese-American internment during World War II in class and my kids did a pretty great job. Turns out that their previous experience using my preformatted research note-cards in “Flight v. Invisibility” prepared them pretty well to research primary and secondary sources in “Aliens and Americans.” Hooray for building on previous knowledge!

Of course, this small victory was preceded by a horrendous amount of harried photocopying that I finished just moments before first period. I hate Monday mornings.

Week 28: March 16-20

090320: Day 124
For the record, it snowed today. It was the first day of spring and it snowed.

I got another runaway notice in my mailbox this morning: SF ran away as of February 28. Of course, we already knew she ran away because Ms. L tracked down SF’s mom (by asking GW if she had SF’s phone number) when we hadn’t seen SF in a couple weeks. SF’s mother said SF had run away. She just didn’t tell the school or anything because, you know, SF has done this before. It took her three weeks to report it to the school. Think about that for a second. I would add an exclamation point but I fear it would ruin the severity of the statement.

On a lighter note, I had to cover Ms. L’s eighth period class because she took ten of our kids ice skating today. It was me and CD, quietly writing for 46 minutes. I wrote many haiku, of which this is the finest:

Nigga please with that
obnoxious pussy talk you
must be a virgin

090319: Day 123
I’m still photocopying the entirety of When the Emperor Was Divine. Me and the rizo have gotten real friendly these past couple weeks. According to Mr. W, we don’t have much ink left in the entire building. So I closed the door while me and rizo got real friendly. I need the copies. What else can I do?

090318: Day 122
In our house meeting we discussed the fight SP got into last week, in which he had his two front teeth punched out. According to Mr. P, SP didn’t even understand what was happening as he prepared to rumble. He knew a dude was running at him, which meant there was going to be a fight, but he didn’t know why the dude wanted to fight him. He didn’t realize this dude was going to cream him because he had been shittalking him and his girlfriend for a week. Hello, McFly. My favorite part is SP’s initial reaction to said dude running at him was to remove his jacket. Picture it in your head: dude runs at SP, with the intention to fight, and SP takes a second to remove his jacket. As he is removing his jacket, his hands are behind his back. And dude takes his opportunity to crunch him in the face.

Also on the list of completely ridiculous and confusing incidents of the day was LS’s purported running away. I got a memo in my mailbox this morning saying she had been reported runaway/missing as of the day before. Then I got a phone call from Ms. S, her related service provider, at the end of third period asking if LS’s para was in my classroom. I replied yes, and Ms. S said, “Oh, you’re kidding . . . Can you send her down here. LS is here, wondering where she is.” I had that weird feeling you get when there are giant holes in the official story. Did Ms. S know she was “missing”? I talked to AP A later that day to report that LS was in the building—not missing, as previously thought—and AP A had no idea she was in school. What the fuck, people? Either which way, LS was not at home the night before, so who knows where she was? She did make it to school, though.

090317: Day 121
I passed out grades for the fourth marking period today. The number of students who are confused to be failing is more upsetting than the sheer number of failing students. I find myself explaining the class requirements everyday. “Your Aims and Answers sheets count for points. If you are not doing them, you will lose points. The behavior rubrics count for points. If you are not doing them, you will lose points. There is a vocab quiz on Friday. Do not be surprised on Friday when I tell you there is a quiz. . . . Everything counts. If you are not doing classwork, you are losing points. Everything counts. Let me repeat, everything counts.”

That is not an exaggeration, for those of you who were wondering.

090316: Day 120
Turns out the Designs for Learning series of courses at Mercy isn’t just frustrating when your professor is crappy. Even with a decent professor, it is pointless. I understand how to lesson plan and how to unit plan and how to evaluate student work. You know, I pretty much get how to teach at this point. Everyone else does, too. As a result, we spend at least an hour of class bitching about one thing or another while our professor tries to assuage our anxieties nigh on the end of our Mercy career.

I make phone calls during the first half-hour of class now. We’re not talking about anything, and I try to sit next to the door because there’s also an outlet there for my computer (which has a bum battery, by the way: Apple please take notice). It’s very easy to just slip out the door and make a few phone calls to various parents. The fourth floor corridor more often than not has at least one teacher-cum-grad-student on a cellphone talking to a parent, so I know I’m not egregiously out of line.

The purpose of my phone calls this evening? DJ and CM’s incredibly dumb face-off in fifth period wherein they called each other ugly and asked each other to suck their respective dicks. For the record, CM is a girl. The best part of the fight was when DJ got louder and louder as he was taken out of the classroom and away from any chance of CM’s physically harming him.

Also called home for LF because he is failing hardcore and says really, well, hardcore things in the classroom.

Week 27: March 9-13

090313: Day 118
JW wandered into my fifth period today. I asked him to leave, which he took his good sweet time doing. On his way out the door, he told me, “I’ll be back . . . in two hours . . . next week . . . next year . . . and the year after that . . . and the year after that . . . butt naked, with a saddle on my back, and butter all over me.” He rubbed his chest to demonstrate where the butter would be. In case I didn’t understand.

090312: Day 117
ML continues to get under my skin. Not even under my skin, really, but certainly under the skins of the students in my third period. MB in particular is pissed off; he wants me to kick ML out. ML spent his day in my class trying to steal everything that wasn’t tied to down—you know, everything. At one point, he put six copies of When the Emperor Was Divine under his jacket and denied that he had taken any. I know him to be the student who stole my hall pass (which still hasn’t been replaced, by the way) and a student who has walked out with more than one of my markers. I think he also stole one of my whiteboard erasers, though I can’t be positive about that. I’m not real into taking my eyes off him if he has something that doesn’t belong to him in his hot little hands.

Near the end of the period, he sat down behind my desk and would not move when I asked him to. I specifically told him that if anything was missing, I was coming after him. He accused me of threatening him. I told him I was absolutely threatening him as he was not allowed to sit behind my desk, a policy I had made very clear to him previously. At the ringing of the bell, I counted my books and not so surprisingly discovered one was gone. I reported him to the deans and now he has been suspended. My book remains MIA, which is unfortunate because I have a limited number (see below), but at least that kid will be out of my hair for a second.

I ran into AP A just minutes after I sent the Deans report. Our conversation:

AP A: I don’t think that kid belongs with us.
Me: What the fuck is wrong that kid?
AP A: You know, sometimes I love talking to you.
Me: Well, really . . .
AP A: Something about him bothers me—Not bothers me, but he makes my antennae go up.

AP A has been assistant principal of special education for at least five years. If she is freaked out, there’s something to worry about.

090311: Day 116
I went to the Teacher Tax man this evening. This year I shall have an itemized tax-return, or something like that, and hopefully should get more money back in my refund. Because, after we broke it down, I spent over $8,000 dollars out of my own pocket on my job last year. That figure does not surprise me at all. I rant into Ms. F there; hers was the appointment before mine. We gossiped a touch about SP, who got into a gang-related fight and had his two front teeth knocked out. Not that I’ve seen him sans teeth as he cut my class today.

On my way out, I decided to take the stairs because I was on the second floor and it seemed a waste to call the elevator for just one floor. I entered the stairwell and went down one flight to discover it was an emergency exit only. I went back up only to see that the door on the second floor had locked behind me. Re-entry on floors one and five only. I already knew floor one wasn’t going to let me out, so I climbed up to floor five. When I opened the door, I found the floor under construction: exposed beams, light bulbs hanging from extension cords, cement floors. I called an elevator, but none of the three came. They were set to pass the fifth floor because it is under construction. I kind of freaked out, called Jeff, and wandered the floor a little. I found a freight elevator, fortunately, and that worked. I came pretty close to having to call the Teacher Tax Man to say I was stranded on the fifth floor and couldn’t get an elevator and could he please call the front desk so someone could come get me? Très embarrassing.

090310: Day 115
One of the few things I failed to consider when planning our new unit, Aliens and Americans, was how many copies of the novel the school owns. I blocked out three and a half weeks of in-class and homework reading for When the Emperor Was Divine only to discover that we only have 25 copies of the book. So I’m photocopying it. The whole thing. Sixty-seven packets. I’m doing it discreetly, just in case photocopying an entire book is considered a poor use of resources.

In other news, my fourth period has been unbearable. Do not mistake this fourth period with last semester’s fourth period: they are almost entirely different. LF, GA, JC and DD. These are the boys who are trying to destroy me and their peers who care.

On the upside, DD was suspended today for insubordination. I like to think I had something to do with it—he in fact believes I had everything to do with it—as I sent two deans reports in two days and had him removed from class for being disruptive today. More likely it was the fact that AP V, who is the assistant principal of physical education, reported his insubordination. Also, Dean A reported his insubordination. The next three days will be much quieter.

GA is a different problem altogether. While DD is simply immature and lacking self-reflection, GA is a malicious troublemaker. He is one of those kids who says, “I wasn’t talking” when he’s been talking nearly nonstop for the entire period. I spoke to his sister yesterday, and she referenced the fact that he is on probation for graffiti and that his probation officer threatened to lengthen his probation if his school behavior didn’t improve. Then she made it sound like she was going to try to protect him from such a lengthening. (Grr.)

So I called again today, because his behavior did not improve at all. I heard her will to protect him break—or possibly change—and she told me she was going to call the probation officer because she just doesn’t know what else to do. I would argue that telling the probation officer that he is a menace to his own education and to the education of others is actually protecting his best interests, but you know how it goes. Hopefully, she came to that conclusion herself.

090309: Day 114
A conversation from my Monday after-school help session.

CP: Miss, how do you spell “let”?
Me: (slowly and clearly) L-E-T.
CP: L . . . E . . . T?
Me: Yes, L-E-T.
CP: (writing) L-E-T.
Custodian R: (quietly, to me) Lucky you.